


Like Never Before

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Sex, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Fanart, John being a doctor, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Beta Read, Protective Mycroft, Smut, background Johnlock, brief flashback to previous injury, emotional mycroft, greg gets injured, mystrade, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: Mycroft constantly worries about Greg's safety, and when Greg gets injured during a case there are emotions aplenty.





	Like Never Before

**Author's Note:**

> Summaries are not my strongpoint. 
> 
> Okay! So this fic wouldn't have happened had I not seen [THIS](https://smmr0829.tumblr.com/post/165091238983/i-like-cliche-things-i-will-be-boarding-a-flight) gorgeous piece of art by [Summer](https://smmr0829.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, go look at it before you read this. It's wonderful. 
> 
> Also the title comes from ['Songbird'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTi19MPOvDw), by Fleetwood Mac, which was played on repeat. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Well, at least we got them.” Greg could feel John’s breath ghost across his bare shoulder, as his (thankfully) warm hands worked away at the disaster that was now his upper arm. “Shame about this though.” 

Greg hissed as John spread antiseptic across the various cuts.

“Sorry, could be worse.” John shrugged, “He could have had a gun.”

“I’d really be fucked then.” Greg mumbled, closing his eyes. The movement sent an ache through the right side of his face. 

John had kindly informed him earlier that he was going to be sporting a black eye. “Thank you for being there, John. Really, things would have been a lot worse.” 

John hummed in acknowledgment as he fiddled with some gauze, trying to extract it from the haphazard first aid kit on his lap. “Thank Sherlock, he’s the one that realised there were two of them in it, not one.” 

Greg sighed, “Where is the bastard anyway?” 

John chuckled, “Busy. He gladly informed me that he was not needed as he solved this from the sofa. I would argue that you wouldn’t have been injured if he had have been here, but that’s for discussion later tonight.” 

Greg watched as John took out a roll of bandage and heard him sigh heavily as he searched through the kit for a scissors. 

 

“So he has a case?” Greg asked hopefully, Sherlock had been dangerously bored as of late. 

John snorted unexpectedly and Greg stared at the back of his head curiously. “You heard Mrs. Hudson adopted a puppy?” 

“I may have heard through Mycroft.” Greg murmured, “What has it got to do with Sherlock?”

John who was finally fastening the bandage on Greg, shook his head and Greg could see a fond smile on his face. 

“Well, she’s only gone and decided she needs a week in the sun, so Sherlock is… _dogsitting_. Is that a word?” John asked absently as he finished up on Greg’s arm. 

“He’s…looking after a dog? Andhe’s not bored?” 

John closed the first aid kit and shook his head, smiling still, “He adores it, or should I say _her_. Name’s Pippa, you should pop over and see this magic all for yourself. I’ve rarely seen him this calm.” 

 

Greg found that he was smiling at the thought as they both moved to stand up from the step they had been sitting on at the edge of the crime scene. He groaned at the movement, he was a lot colder and stiffer than he realised. 

“Here, your shirt’s not salvageable, nor is your coat, but take mine.” John slipped out of his coat and helped Greg shed the bloodstained shirt and jacket from uninjured side, letting them fall to the damp gravel. Greg shivered, only in a vest and John wrapped him up in his own gloriously warm coat. “Thanks, I owe you one.” 

John laughed, “Drive me back to Baker Street and buy me a pint the next time we’re out and it’s all settled.” John held out the first aid box to Greg, “Also, please organise that bloody kit because it’s a disaster trying to find anything in it.” 

Greg picked up his shirt and jacket and gestured for John to follow him towards his car. They passed a wheelie bin and Greg mercilessly threw his clothes in there. 

 

Sally saw them approach his car and she ran over, “Boss, you alright?” 

Greg waved an arm in dismissal as John went to put his first aid kit in his boot, before getting into the passenger side. 

“It just looked worse than it was.” He forced a smile, “I’m lucky he only had a knife. The wounds aren’t that bad, not enough to need stitches. Just the blood was-“  


“-Yeah.” Sally grimaced, shaking her head as though trying to rid herself of the memory. “I’ve sorted everything here for tonight.” Sally nodded back towards the scene where everyone was cleaning up their equipment.

Greg reached out to touch her shoulder, “You’re a star, Sally.”

“You’d be lost without me.” She said teasingly, a natural smile crossing her face. “I’ll make a start on the paperwork in the morning. Maybe you should take a day off?” 

Greg bit his lip, “I’d rather come in than face an empty house. I’ll see how I feel when I wake up.” 

“Just let me know tomorrow,” They both heard somebody call her name and she sighed, “See you, Greg.” 

Greg got into the car and caught sight of himself in the mirror, there was dark purple bruising around his eye and he frowned into the mirror. 

“Yeah.” John mumbled, watching him, “Take some paracetamol when you get back, it might hurt in the morning.” 

Greg sighed, starting up the car, “So Baker Street?” 

John smiled, “Make sure Sherlock hasn’t set the place on fire.” 

“He’ll probably be with the dog.” Greg said amused by the image in his head. 

John nodded happily. Greg started driving, a late night news station was playing in the background and Greg swiftly changed it to his favourite rock station. 

“How’s Mycroft?” John asked tentatively. 

Greg shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “He’s in Brussels at the moment, uncontactable as ever.” 

John frowned, “Would you like to stay with us tonight? I mean my old room is free now, we’d be happy to have you.”

While the thought of company was alluring, a large part of him just wanted to get something to eat and switch off. He had a new book on his bedside table that he’d only managed to read three pages of. So he shook his head, “Thanks John, but I think I’m just going to sleep.” 

“Well you’re welcome over anytime.” John said as they approached Baker Street. 

When Greg pulled up outside 221B he moved to take John’s coat off, clenching his teeth at the pain in his arm. 

John touched his arm lightly, “You can give it to me another time, mate. Keep yourself warm and call me if you need anything, alright?” 

Greg smiled, “Of course, thanks again John. For everything.” 

 

Greg drove into the driveway and sat in his car for a few minutes, staring at the dark house in front of him.  
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was his home now, and he saw it as home. However, sometimes he wished he still had the lease on his old, tiny apartment because that never seemed as lonely.

Lately, Mycroft had had to go to various meetings abroad, mainly in Brussels. 

Usually it might just be for three days, but Greg had been alone now for a week. He was fine while he was occupied, it was just something about coming home to an empty house that unsettled him.

While away, there was also limited contact between Greg and Mycroft. He took out his phone and saw that it had died hours ago. He sighed and went to go into the house. It would be times like this, Greg thought as he unlocked the door, disarmed the alarm and turned on the lights, that he needed to talk to Mycroft. 

He threw his keys on the hall table, placed John’s coat on the coat rack and walked into the kitchen in his vest. He took a piece of the lasagna that he and Mycroft had made together last week out of the freezer. He moved it out of the Tupperware and placed it on a plate and put it into the microwave, setting time for it to defrost before he went upstairs. 

 

When he got to the bedroom he plugged his phone in and left it on the nightstand. He then decided to have a bath, that way he could still wash but not get the bandage on his upper arm wet. He took off his clothes slowly, leaving them in a haphazard pile before going to run the water. 

He stopped before the bathroom mirror, seeing his face in full for the first time. The area around his eye was an angry shade of purple and there was a slight swelling. Other than that, he was paler than usual and had a dark circle underneath his other eye. He turned away from the mirror, silently thankful that Mycroft _wasn’t_ here to see this or know about it.  
Greg had been injured plenty of times on the job, that was too be expected. You can’t deal with criminals all the time and expect not to get hurt. 

 

* * *

 

Greg had been injured in the very early days of knowing Mycroft; in the period just after they had slept together for the first time. 

Mycroft had left before Greg woke up and there had been no contact between them for at least a week afterwards. 

Greg had tried his hardest to put it to the back of his mind, to pretend he didn’t have feelings for the other man, when he blatantly knew that he had never felt to this extent about someone. He told himself that he needed to remain professional; at some point Mycroft would end up contacting him concerning Sherlock, and that would be it. 

So one night during a raid, Greg happened to get in the way of one of the drug lords who was trying to make an escape. He had taken his gun out, but the shot went over the man’s shoulder and all Greg could remember was an echoing bang followed by a searing pain in his side and the crack his wrist made as he was pushed down a flight of stairs. 

 

He awoke to a continuous beeping and a warm pressure on his unplastered hand. The light was so bright that Greg had to blink a couple of times before the room came into focus. 

Upon realising that he was in a hospital room, his eyes went to his arms. One was plastered up to just below his elbow, the other was by his side with a pale hand covering it. Greg blinked another few times, staring at the hand atop his. It was not Sally’s hand. He had no one else. His frown deepened, and he moved his head to the side, trying to ignore how heavy it felt. 

He felt his eyes widen when he saw an exhausted looking Mycroft Holmes watching him carefully, forehead creased. 

“ _Gregory_.” Mycroft breathed, his hand tightening around Greg’s. “How are you feeling?” 

“Confused.” Was the only appropriate word that would come to Greg’s mind. 

Mycroft looked down at their hands, anything to avoid eye contact. “You were injured on your latest case.”

Greg watched the other man and frowned, why was he here? Especially now?

“I guessed.” He mumbled, “How bad?” 

Mycroft raised his head a little, his eyes on Greg’s other arm. 

“You-“ He took a breath, as though it was psychically difficult to talk about. “You were pushed down a stairs, you broke your wrist…it’s a clean break, so it should heal quicker, you won’t need an operation.” Greg watched and he felt Mycroft intertwine their fingers. “You were shot.” Mycroft looked up at Greg now and Greg noticed how pale the younger man was, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and it made Greg’s stomach flip. 

“Your left side, they had to operate to remove the bullet but there’s no serious damage done, it didn’t hit any of your organs. It’s just going to be painful.” Mycroft’s voice was strained still and Greg frowned, confusion and questions running through his head. 

“Why are you here, Mycroft?” 

 

The question seemed to take Mycroft off guard. He opened his mouth to answer but no words came out. His grip on Greg’s hand was still strong and Greg wanted nothing more than to be able to touch Mycroft’s face, to make him look at him. 

Mycroft lowered his head again, focussing on their hands and when he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper and Greg strained to hear. 

“Gregory…there is no excuse for how I behaved.” He paused, “I should have stayed, I should have replied to your messages. I tried to distance myself…I’ve lived so long believing caring is detrimental to a person and their motivations. I was terrified, because I harboured feelings for you…I cared about you, against my better judgement.”

Greg, who had been holding his breath, made an attempt to trace comforting circles into Mycroft’s hand with his thumb. 

“Myc,” He breathed, and was taken aback when Mycroft raised his head and made eye contact, his eyes glistening and on the verge of tears. 

“Then I was notified that you had been shot-“ Mycroft’s face changed, his eyes full of anger, “I despised myself.”

“Mycroft,” Greg whispered, worried. 

Mycroft shook his head, he needed to keep talking. “If you had have been killed, I would never have forgiven myself for leaving you like that. So, I came here and watched your every breath wondering what I could possibly say to make it better. And now look at me-“

Greg managed to separate their hands, and he wanted to wipe away the look of devastation on Mycroft’s face. 

“Myc, stop.” Greg raised his hand, stroking his thumb across Mycroft’s cheek. 

“You’re not the one who shot me,” He tried to force a smile, “Shit like this happens all the time in my line of work.” He tried to sound calming. 

“I’m fine. You are too, so don’t ever blame yourself.”

“I care about you.” Mycroft breathed. “Deeply.” He spoke as though somehow that was worse than the idea of being shot. 

Greg ran his hand through Mycroft’s hair, noticing how Mycroft leant into his touch. 

“I care about you too.” Greg said with conviction, and he saw a change in Mycroft’s expression; understanding, the tension falling from his shoulders. 

“Gregory-“ Mycroft started, standing up and leaning closer to Greg. 

Greg could only smile with amusement, “Mycroft Holmes, you’re a bloody idiot.” He reached up to pull at Mycroft’s tie, to pull him into a kiss.

 

 

* * *

Greg spent longer than necessary in the bath, he let the hot water soak through him; warmth getting rid of the coldness that had spread through him at the crime scene. 

When he got out of the bath, his arm ached as he dried himself and changed into pyjama bottoms. The house was warm, so he decided not to look for a tshirt. He took some paracetamol from the medicine cabinet and went downstairs to get a glass of water. 

The kitchen smelt like lasagne, and it was only then that Greg realised how hungry he was. 

While going to get cutlery and turning the microwave on for two more minutes, he remembered that he hadn’t eaten since last night. It had been a long day. Glancing at the clock on the stove he sighed seeing it was already one in the morning. 

 

He ate as he flicked through the newspaper that had been delivered to their house that morning, humming along to the radio that he had turned on to minimise the silence. 

He felt significantly better after eating and the painkillers had kicked in, so his headache wasn’t as noticeable. There was only a dull ache in his arm, but nothing that would prevent him sleeping.

He washedhis plate and placed it back in the cupboard. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he turned out the light and made his way upstairs. He placed the water on his bedside table, turning on his phone before he went to wash his teeth. 

 

Over the sound of water running, Greg paused. He turned off the water and listened. 

The house was silent as ever, but he could have sworn that he had heard a door shut. He shook his head, he must be losing it. 

He came into the bedroom at the same time that Mycroft appeared at the bedroom door. 

“Gregory!” Mycroft was breathless. 

Saying that Mycroft looked dishevelled would be an understatement. His hair was in disarray, and the dark circles under Mycroft’s eyes were even more pronounced as they contrasted against his pale skin. 

“ _Mycroft_?” Greg said in disbelief, an unexpected warmth flooding his chest. 

Mycroft closed the distance between them and cradled the back of Greg’s head in his hands, their faces mere inches from each other. 

“Are you alright? I heard you were injured and I-"

Greg cut off Mycroft with a rough kiss, pulling him as close as possible. He caressed Mycroft’s head, his fingers gentle against Mycroft’s cold skin. After a few seconds he broke the kiss for air.

 

“Gregory-“ 

“Ssh, Myc.” Greg placed a finger on Mycroft’s lips. “I’m fine, perfectly fine. It looks worse than it is.” 

He carefully wiped away a tear that had trailed down Mycroft’s cheek, kissing the spot lightly. 

“What happened?” Mycroft breathed, gently tracing Greg’s jawline. 

“Come, sit down.” Greg guided the visibly shaken Mycroft over towards their bed, sitting down beside him. 

“Turned out there were two guys instead of one. I was guarding one of the exits with two others, of course I was the first person that the guy saw. He was out of it, threw a good punch though.” He gestured at his eye, the panicked look on Mycroft’s face was still there, and Greg intertwined their fingers, giving a reassuring squeeze. 

“Turns out he had an army knife, in the struggle he attempted to stab me. He had bad aim, and I got away with just an array of cuts. It bled a lot, but none were deep enough for stitches. John cleaned me up and told me everything was fine-Mycroft, breathe, please.” 

 

“If anything happened-“Mycroft shut his eyes tight, “I would never forgive myself.”

“Hey,” Greg whispered, “I’m a cop. There are bad people out there that I have to go after, things like this happen in my line of work. You know that, and you know none of it is ever going to be your fault.” 

“I wasn’t here for you.”

Greg kissed Mycroft’s shoulder. “You have your own job that needs you.” He glanced at Mycroft, “Where were you?” 

Mycroft opened his eyes and watched Greg. “Brussels, I was in a meeting when Anthea told me you had been injured…and I just…left. There was a plane ready.” 

Greg was silent, amazement swirling around his head. “You just flew over straight away?”

“Of course.” Mycroft rested his head on Greg’s shoulder, “I’d do anything for you.”

“Hey,” Greg whispered, “Lets go to bed, yeah?” 

Mycroft nodded, standing up, watching Greg carefully, as though he was afraid he’d vanish.

“C’mere.” Greg murmured, kissing Mycroft softly as he untied his tie for him, letting it fall to the floor with his jacket, followed by his waistcoat and shirt.

Greg slowly kissed his way down Mycroft’s neck, and Mycroft let his hands fall onto Greg’s hips.  
  
“You’re freezing.” Greg whispered as he pulled back to look at Mycroft again.

Mycroft made an attempt at a smile and Greg wanted to pull him close and never let go. 

“I think I might take a hot shower.” Mycroft murmured, and Greg nodded in agreement. 

“When did you last eat?” He asked as he stroked Mycroft’s cheek. 

“I had a sandwich on the plane.” 

Greg nodded, “Would you like anything else?” 

Mycroft shook his head, “I just want to be with you.” He breathed.

Greg pulled Mycroft into a gentle kiss, “Go shower, I’ll be here.” He smiled reassuringly.

 

Greg was sitting up in bed reading when Mycroft emerged from the en suite in a bathrobe. 

“Alright?” Greg asked, concerned about how worn Mycroft looked.

“I should be the one asking you that, Gregory.” 

Greg chuckled, “As I said, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He closed his book and placed it on the nightstand, pulling down the duvet on Mycroft’s side. “C’mere.” 

Mycroft came over to the bed and shyly let the bathrobe fall to the floor, nearly laughing at Greg’s audible intake of breath. 

Mycroft slid into the bed and pulled the covers around them. He turned on his side to face Greg, his face troubled as he stared at Greg’s black eye. 

“Are you in pain?” 

“I took some painkillers earlier and they helped.” 

Mycroft caressed Greg’s cheek, his hand gentle, as though afraid of touching the bruising. “I’m sorry for being away for so long.” 

“It’s your job. I understand.” Greg murmured, resting his hand on Mycroft’s bare waist. 

“Can I listen to your heart?” Mycroft whispered, his eyes meeting Greg’s. 

“Of course.” Greg moved to lie on his back and Mycroft shifted so that his head was on Greg’s chest. Greg stayed silent, gently running his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, breathing evenly. 

They lay silently together on the verge of sleep, cosy in each other’s warmth. 

Greg’s eyes had fallen shut when he heard Mycroft take a breath. “I love you, Gregory. Infinitely.” 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Myc.” Greg’s voice was husky, full of emotion.

He felt Mycroft place a soft kiss on his chest, before he moved to be at eye-level with Greg. 

“Make love to me?” Mycroft’s cheeks had a deep blush to them and Greg felt a rush of warmth flood through him, all he could do in response was to pull Mycroft into a kiss. 

 

Greg rolled them over so that Mycroft was now on his back, looking up at him. 

“God, I love you.” Greg breathed, as he leant down to kiss Mycroft. 

Mycroft hummed against his lips and Greg deepened their kiss, cradling Mycroft’s face. Mycroft’s hands slowly trailed down Greg’s spine, and upon reaching Greg’s ass, he pulled him up against him, Greg’s bottoms being the only barrier between them. Greg moaned into the kiss, grinding up against Mycroft and feeling as though there was electricity running through his veins. 

When they broke the kiss for air, Mycroft easily changed their positions, so that he was now straddling Greg’s thighs. He and Greg shared a look, Greg nodding before Mycroft started kissing down his neck, gently and softly, not intending to leave any marks. 

Mycroft’s fingers trailed down Greg’s body, followed by Mycroft’s soft kisses. Greg gently ran the tips of his fingers through Mycroft’s drying hair.

When Mycroft’s lips reached the band of Greg’s pyjama bottoms, he paused, his hand brushing over Greg’s erection, causing the older man to let out of quiet moan. 

 

Mycroft deftly removed Greg’s bottoms, letting them fall off the bed as he looked down at the beauty that was a naked Greg, _his_ Gregory. 

He knelt between Greg’s legs and took Greg’s cock in hand, giving it a few strokes, hand twisting around the head, just as Greg liked before he took it into his mouth.

Greg let out a quiet curse as the warmth of Mycroft’s mouth enveloped him. His hand found itself in Mycroft’s hair once again, this time tugging slightly. 

In his own practiced way, Mycroft began to bob his head, one hand on the base of Greg’s cock, the other intertwined with Greg’s free hand. 

They found a rhythm, Greg’s soft moans guiding Mycroft as he felt his own cock, heavy against his stomach. 

“Myc, now.” Greg was breathless as Mycroft let go of Greg’s cock, sitting back on his heels. Greg pulled himself into a sitting position, and Mycroft nodded, moving towards his nightstand. 

 

When Mycroft moved back, he was holding a bottle of lube and a condom and held them out for Greg. 

“Please.” Mycroft whispered, moving to lie down. 

Greg smiled knowingly, taking one of the pillows and helped Mycroft put it under his hips. He trailed his hands down Mycroft’s pale skin, spreading his legs and placing a kiss on Mycroft’s thigh. He gave Mycroft’s weeping cock a few strokes as he mouthed his balls, eliciting a moan from the younger man. 

He kissed the inside of Mycroft’s thigh, opening the lube and pouring some onto his fingers, warming it before he traced the ring of muscle, glancing up at Mycroft before he slowly slipped a finger into Mycroft’s puckered hole. 

Greg waited for Mycroft’s nod before he started moving his finger, slowly moving it in and out. Whenhe was sure Mycroft was ready he added his second finger, causing Mycroft to moan. 

“Okay?” He asked and Mycroft nodded enthusiastically, making Greg chuckle.

Mycroft moaned again as Greg added a third finger, now picking up a rhythm of thrusting in and out and he heard Mycroft curse and he knew he had hit his prostate. Mycroft tensed again as Greg grazed that spot once more and he whimpered as Greg withdrew his fingers. 

 

Greg could feel Mycroft’s intense gaze upon him as he hastily opened the condom and slipped it on, before coating his cock in lubricant. 

“Ready?” Greg asked softly, grinning when Mycroft nodded. 

Mycroft wrapped his legs around Greg’s waist and Greg guided his cock into Mycroft’s hole. He moved slowly, as Mycroft’s warmth and tightness made his blood sing. 

Once he was fully seated, he watched Mycroft’s face, smiling as Mycroft nodded once again. 

Greg started moving, his hands just above Mycroft’s shoulders, holding him up. When Mycroft moaned loudly, the sound went right to Greg’s cock, and Greg leant down to catch Mycroft’s mouth in a wet kiss. 

He felt Mycroft’s hand move between them, palming his own cock. 

When Greg had found a rhythm to his thrusts, and when they had broken for air, they made eye contact. 

Right in that moment, they were the only two people in the world. Greg didn’t think it was possible for his heart to be so full of love for one person and he was suddenly overcome with emotion. There was a fire in his veins, his whole body belonged to the man below him. 

Mycroft’s gasp brought Greg back to the moment, he kept moving, watching Mycroft’s expressions as he kept thrusting into that spot. 

Mycroft moaned Greg’s name, and Greg could feel Mycroft tighten around him as he came. Greg was just there, his thrusts becoming uneven, more desperate as he sought his own climax. 

He came with his head buried in Mycroft’s shoulder, and Mycroft held him in his arms, through the aftershocks of his orgasm, until he was able to breathe again and slowly pull out of Mycroft, collapsing onto his side. 

They shared a silent moment together before Greg moved to go dispose of the condom and he came back from the bathroom with a damp towel to clean them both up. 

 

They lay in each other’s arms, facing each other, eyelids heavy. 

Mycroft traced Greg’s face, his fingers briefly touching the bruising on Greg’s face. 

Greg watched him as he did so, pulling Mycroft up against him. 

“I love you.” Greg whispered, and he saw Mycroft’s face soften and felt Mycroft’s hand drift down to his heart, his palm warm against Greg’s skin. 

“Gregory, you are my world.” Mycroft gave Greg a soft kiss, before smiling tiredly. 

They were both exhausted and they drifted into a peaceful sleep, together once again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://lostallsenseofcontrol.tumblr.com/).  
> If you need to chat or have a request, have at it. 
> 
> Also, sometimes I get so emotional about how in love these idiots are in my head. I love them so much.  
> Okay, well I hope you enjoyed! You're fab.


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